Shadow of a Doubt
by PrognisAldiev
Summary: A particular Henchman's recent run-ins with some rather unfriendly young girls leaves him wondering if he chose the correct career path for him. Even he doesn't really think he makes the cut, so what should he do? Chases after the plot of RWBY and RWBY: Resolve. Will have sporadic updates, as this is lower on the priority list.
1. Chapter 1

**This right here is best read immediately before or after watching RWBY: Episode 1 - Ruby Rose, if only for a refresher on the events of the episode described here. This little side-story is intended to seem as if it could very well have happened (aside from obviously not being Canon. I own nothing. Hilarious to even think.) by fitting in between episodes and events.**

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><p><strong>Red Devil<strong>

Doug did not have the makings of a good henchman. He was sure of this, because he knew the four merits a good henchman had to have;

Rule 1: A good henchman looked generic, and he fit that bill perfectly. He had been sent along with four other cronies, all of them wearing matching attire of black suits with fedoras, crimson ties and shades accentuating the look. They all had differing facial hair, though what he had was more like stubble his actual hair was a bit longer than theirs, poking out the sides of his hat dyed black as well. He might have been lagging behind the group a bit but that hardly warranted their concern.

Rule 2: A good henchman was cost efficient. If they had been considered elite henchmen, they would be getting paid a far better wage for following this Torchwick fellow; but as they were not nearly talented enough to boast a title like elite they were all little bang for little buck. It wasn't as if a store robbery needed an awful lot of skill, so again, he and his co-workers were a perfect fit.

Rule 3: A good henchman listened well. The order must be followed, if necessary repeated only once. He could do that fine, but put himself above what may be asked of him. The others here might have been of the same mind as he was, but were likely too stupid to understand when there was a line they shouldn't cross. When you were one of many, the numbers did that to people.

Rule 4: A good henchman, lastly, saw things through no matter how bad they got. Your goon should stick by and follow your every whim straight to hell itself for whatever meager sum you were supplying them with for their efforts. While many henchmen would sometimes bail out on their employers when the situation gets beyond saving, he was easily the first to dip out of service the moment a job went south.

As these second two of four traits were failings he wouldn't appropriate, Doug would never make a good henchman, or so he figured. Being a _good _henchman wasn't necessarily needed to succeed _as _a henchman, however, if his current status among the band he followed was any example. Technically, his tendency toward self-preservation had helped Junior more often than it hindered him; Doug unfailingly came back to tell his initial boss what went wrong, and what to expect most nights if a gig went awry. This was shaping up to be a night unlike those, where the lack of action was making them practically fall asleep at Torchwick's heels. Finally, after long hours of walking through the streets and shooing away scared passersby, they discovered a Dust Shop open this late in the night; _From Dust Til Dawn. _Tacky name, but it got the point across.

They stepped into the store with a jangle of chimes, and it was quiet for a moment until Raymond started talking. One of his fellows pulled a gun on the clerk hardly halfway through their boss' sentence, eager to get this over with. "Do you have _any _idea how hard it is to find a Dust Shop open this late?"

"Please, just take my Lien and leave!" The older man rasped with his hands skyward.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh... Calm down, we're not here for your money... grab the Dust." With that, the Henchman's third rule; obey. Four of them grabbed canisters and started filling with the dispensers at the side; one revealed a case and began demanding solid crystals. Doug glanced back from his corner grabbing some frost Dust, hearing another of his fellows speaking with a customer they must have missed; the kid by the magazines must have been twelve or something from the size, and she was wearing what may as well have been a gothic Lolita version of their own outfits. It was actually a little uncanny.

"Alright kid, hands where I can see 'em!"

All Doug said about the situation was more of a whisper to himself; "Is her cape moving by itself? Is anybody else seeing this? I mean what the fu -"

"Hey, I said hands in the air! You got a deathwish or somethin'?" Sliding back her hood, it became apparent that she was wearing headphones that must have made her oblivious to the whole event taken place so far. Doug turned back to his work, guessing the kid would soon be joining the owner reaching for the ceiling.

There was some more idle chat between them both, sounding like even more reiteration on just what was happening, and then the sound of hard impact and some crashing. Doug turned around fast enough to see one of the other cohorts hold her at gunpoint, shouting; "Freeze!"

Half a second later, he was soaring out the window on the end of her feet. She rose from the street as they all gawked at her out the shattered window, as something in her hands soon unfolded with the sounds of sliding metal into a scythe bigger than she was. Doug backed up involuntarily.

"Okay... Well? Get her." Torchwick commanded, and they served to define the Henchman's fourth rule, running out to greet the little hellion.

"Yeah, no..." Doug chose to watch from the window seat. Torchwick, who had migrated to the door, had yet to notice or didn't care. Within just a few more seconds, the girl had done some crazy spinning dropkick, along with wild swings of the back of her scythe powered by gunshots integrated with the weapon that hammered the others either across the street or down into craters. This suggested he had picked the right option.

Around this point, Doug looked back at the Dust Shop owner, silently made an apologetic gesture, and promptly made for the back door. He heard Torchwick make a witty comment about the Henchman's second rule, one that Doug was proving him right about in a different sense. There was an explosion on the other side of the building, and upon exiting the alleyway to escape saw Torchwick climbing a ladder up to the rooftops, now past the miniature she-beast. How had he gotten over there so fast?

It didn't really matter, as he knew that was the way to the getaway airship –and he should likely be making his way there too... that was until the tiny red devil herself rocketed up after Torchwick. He would have to round the building, as the aircraft was surely lowered to ground level right now. Doug sprinted around the block into the blind spot where fortunately, Torchwick's own boss had parked and gone silent. He climbed into the side of the ship, and she hardly gave him a glance before ignition, which he wasn't ready for and nearly fell out of the ship because of. He made a sound that could have been a curse or a cough from impact with the back wall.

They rose up to a height where Torchwick walked dramatically off of the roof into the hold, tuning around to look at his pursuer. "End of the line, Red!" with this, he hurled a Dust crystal he had hung onto at her feet, firing a projectile from his cane at the rock to detonate the potent crystal. There was yet another exciting explosion, and Torchwick laughed about the quick victory until the smoke from the blast cleared.

Some blonde chick was standing there, purple sigil floating in the air like a shield. They were unscathed... and this other cape-wearing broad proceeded to bombard their ship with purple orbs of light that made the thing wildly twitch in the air. Torchwick kept his footing; Doug fell on his face and slid to the front end of the ship. He grunted though he couldn't hear it over the systems beeping manically when Torchwick stepped on his back followed by his head to enter the cockpit, grinding his foot into Doug's cranium –intentionally, Doug would bet –as he informed the red-dressed pilot that they had a huntress on them. Wasn't this just perfect.

Torchwick backed off so that this lady's glass heels could stab him most painfully on her way overhead, and the Redhead allowing her to pass made one last step onto Doug's head again to reach the pilot's seat. Doug managed to rise and stumble into a sitting position against the wall behind the front seats, just out of view from the windshield. There was a sound he couldn't really describe, followed by rolling thunder and the sound of air displacement as footlong icicles began to rain on the aircraft, sliding them down on an angle. Torchwick was almost hit in the face by one, which in turn impaled the seat when he moved and stopped near Doug's eye. He found himself rolling to the side, though his reflexes wouldn't have saved him if the chair hadn't stopped the deadly raindrop in the first place.

There were some high-pitched combat clashes ringing through the air repeatedly now as some kind of otherworldly battle took place. Doug tumbled out next to Cinder for a moment, around the time the blonde on the roof decided to form a giant floating spear out of broken rooftop. As she launched it toward the ship, the woman in the red dress next to him braced against the door slid aside when Torchwick pulled off a strong tilt to the left; making the lance of stones deflect off the armor on top... which in turn dumped Doug out of the aircraft with a shout and a few swears muffled by the scraping of the attack against steel, hurtling into a window that surprisingly didn't break. He bounced off of this and half-caught a hold of a street light, which he soon smacked against and lost his grip on to descend backfirst into the sidewalk.

He stared up more out of a lack of ability to move in so much pain, watching as some heat waves and ashes came off the battle raging above. There were a few gunshots too. He really didn't care anymore. He rested for a few moments more on the pavement, but this proved to be too long.

"Hey there buddy. Need a hand? We certainly did, a few minutes ago." One of the other cronies was looking down at him. The other three soon occupied the other sides.

"Just when you think that Doubtful Doug can be trusted after all, huh?" the one with the goatee said. They knew him pretty well by now, but these guys were all the same to Doug. He could probably recognize them better by what little they had different than by actual name.

That said, Beardo laughed a bit. "We don't have much time, guys. The cops are sure to be making tracks."

"Can I just say one thi –" Doug was cut off by the flurry of blows from all sides, and after a minute or two of leaving him bloody and bruised they hoofed it at the sound of sirens. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of the Blonde Witch and the Red Devil leaving the premises, rolling pitifully into the shadows in hopes of not being seen.

If any of these things served an example, Doug was not a good Henchman, and likely never would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yellow Fury**

Being a Henchman wasn't working out for Doug. The altercation with Roman and the little red girl hadn't helped, but a few weeks beforehand things had been even crazier than that on his boss' home turf. The club had been fairly populated that night, but the mixer to wear the Deadb3ar head had called in sick –lucky for him, as it turned out later –and Doug filled in for him. Managing the tunes had been a skill he quickly developed as the one lackey that came back most often, and at the time he'd gotten a haircut and shaved. Letting his appearance go a little afterward had directly resulted from the misfortune he was currently recollecting.

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><p>The night had been going well, seeing as no one had brought up complaints about the ambiance, and Junior had just closed the deal with Torchwick (that Doug had turned out to be a part of in the future) when a young blonde strolled in. He could see the silhouette of her and her golden hair through the door before she entered, and her outfit was gratuitously exposing. The girl's eyes drifted around the club, and she eventually parked herself next to Junior, which wasn't the best place for her to choose in his opinion. Doug simply went about his given task, but nearly slipped the controls when he saw her clutch his boss' crotch like a vise. It looked uncomfortable to say the least, but that was soon dropped and goons were everywhere. She probably wouldn't be walking home tonight... if she was lucky she might, but with a limp at least.<p>

The blonde continued to toy with Junior, and not being able to hear from here Doug arched a brow when Junior went to kiss the girl at her proposal, only to get a knuckle sandwich that sent him through a few panes of glass. Henchmen closed in around her, and she flipped back high into the air; this was his cue.

His cue to change the music to something more fitting, of course. He wasn't going to abandon his duty to fight a teenager that just slugged his employer across the club. That would be ridiculous!

Screwing with the lights, he had the dance floor shine red for the intense battle raging well below him. She punched and kicked his coworkers wildly, sending them all careening every which way off the pad like she was king of the hill. "... I guess in this case, it'd be Queen of the Castle..." He murmured to himself over the mixed rendition of a Weiss Schnee classic. Soon, a kink in the hose; she was out of disposable dummies to pound into mush. This meant that it was expected of Doug to do something now... there was a machine gun below the table; he lifted it, taking not-so-careful aim at the girl below, and prayed as he sprayed bullets at her.

Spraying and praying wasn't enough in this moment, as the blonde weaved through the deadly barrage and leapt over the mixer, kicking him in the chest. In his daze, he was helpless as she drove a shot-powered elbow into his collarbone, slammed his head into the mixer, and lifted him to fire both fists into his torso, launching him from his perch and letting him plummet to the floor below with a painful thud. The stupid b3ar head was thrown off, and he was laying at the feet of the Malachite sisters now, the hammering of his skull against the mixer having switched the song and hue of lights once again... He rolled over, resisting the urge to see up their skirts from his vantage point, seeing as they were a ways out of his age range. As much as it wasn't any sort of rule, Doug's consideration of madesty was also a point he always thought matched poorly with his chosen profession.

Stepping away from the girls as the two-on-one began, Junior bade Doug over to where he stood soothing an ache in his face that looked similar to the one just bestowed on Doug himself. Henchman's rule number three; Doug ran over, prepared to obey whatever orders the man had prepared for him.

"How the hell do you do that?"

Doug blinked. "Do what?"

"Take a beating like that, and just get up like nothing happened. Biggest coward in my crew, but you're like a damn punching bag... Forget it. Go get _that _for me, Doug."

There were only so many things Junior could want right now, and considering his club was under attack, was probably asking for his weapon. Doug vaulted with his left over the bar counter, rushing into the back room to go collect the rocket launcher-giant club hybrid, removing it from the polished case among their other hardware. Upon return, he found Junior's hand out expectantly, so placed the bat into his employer's mitt. This earned him a hard swing of the weapon into the side of his head, dropping him instantly with a grunt. That seemed to make Junior feel a little better. "Good job, Doug. Get back to the music, would you?"

"Y... Yes, Boss." Doug groaned, clambering to all fours and slowly to his feet. He managed to walk back up to his earlier position just as the last of the two Malachites were soundly beaten, shifting the song respectively as Junior made his re-entrance. Picking up the machine gun again, Doug aimed and pulled the trigger as the blonde girl evaded missiles, hearing an empty click. _'How disappointing,' _he thought sarcastically; _'I was hoping for another ass-kicking from goldilocks over there.'_

The back of his collar was grabbed, and Doug was yanked from the mixer by Melanie, dragging him down to where she and Miltia stood injured. Apparently, neither of them were injured enough to refrain from reaming out Doug for not changing the music as he was supposed to; the fact that they both lost to the Yellow Fury couldn't possibly be their fault, so it must have been the sounds being played over the speakers. That made all kinds of sense.

"Ugh, I hate that song! It was grating my ears the whole time we fought that girl!" Doug could think of something else grating his ears right now. Miltia wound up while Melanie was complaining still, swinging her leg up between his and lifting him for a moment with the impact. Doug let off a high-pitched noise much like his boss had not long ago.

"Next time, do your freaking job!" She yelled down at the cringing lackey now on his face and knees, and Melanie looked like she intended to add her own last comment and strike –but the sound of Junior getting bashed so hard he flew clean out of the club drew their attention. The girls made as much haste as they could in their current state, leaving Doug to his own thoughts on the floor.

_'Maybe this isn't really the job for me...'_

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><p>In the dark alleyway, Doug hid from the scene of Torchwick's and the Red Devil's fight until the police would finish speaking with the Dust Shop owner. The thought from the end of the night long before this one echoed in the back of his mind again, and Doug considered it more intently this time. Up until now he had never really considered anything else since his background would keep most anyone from hiring him now, and his skills were few outside the able-bodiedness required of grunt work; such as being a small fish in the pond that was organized crime. Returning to Junior as he was now would earn him some bruises; that were certain, seeing that it was the man's favorite stress reliever. If he stayed under the man's thumb any longer that pastime would only spread as he slid down the pecking order due to successive failures, and more helpings of pain from the Malachites as well as group punishment from his fellows did not sound pleasant in the least. He hated to say it, but it seemed now was the time for Doug to look for a new job.<p>

But what could a former henchman possibly apply for? What _should _one apply for?

Doug wasn't even sure if someone would let him be a garbage man, let alone any other dirty job no one wanted. Even if the calling list was short, his credentials put off just about anyone, and his criminal record couldn't be erased overnight. No, whatever new thing he did, it would have to be another under-the-table job, possibly even something else that was illegal, and it wouldn't take long for Junior to discover that his old underling had taken up some other manner of business... Doug needed a new boss. A new underhanded, shady, intimidating boss. He wasn't exactly hopeful after abandoning the two biggest names in the underworld.

As luck would have it, Doug found a hand on his shoulder, and a smile full of pointed teeth beaming at him.

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><p><strong>And now we have ourselves another fic conjoined with RSOL because I said so. Much like <strong>_**Resolve**_**, this will not be directly changing any preordained events, but will be focusing more intently on said events of the canon series.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Mysterious Maniac**

It was simple, really; Khiver Lybel would pay Doug a sum based on the value of the info given. The estimate was on a scale from vague to detailed, and regardless of where it landed on that spectrum the amount was gracious. However, Doug needed some kind of long-term solution to his current crisis. Upon hearing this, Khiver said he had an idea in that regard, but needed Doug's cooperation in their present deal as collateral of sorts. He had been offered a gamble, but after the options he'd run through his head before, this was one of the best he could probably make. It was either work for this Basket-case, or return to the under-appreciation of Junior's payroll. Even if this decision screwed him, it wasn't as if he could make his life much worse, could he?

Doug rattled off everything he knew about Roman Torchwick, Cinder Fall, and their plans to Khiver. That wasn't much; as all he really knew was that Roman had hired guys from Junior –Doug included –and that the man worked for Cinder, looting heaping loads of Dust from Vale regularly. This seemed to be all the info the stranger needed, for now. Either these vague facts meant more to him, or gave him something to look into.

Doug had recognized Khiver as the deranged lunatic that escaped from Sliverhang Asylum, but never expected him to be so... understandable. He was content, even if his teeth were creepy, and they had a perfectly normal conversation about who Doug was and who he worked for, what connections he had, etcetera. Doug only imparted what he knew out of fear that the psycho would snap his neck if he refused at first, but now that Doug had given away Junior's customer confidentiality he had destroyed his ties to the man even further –and Khiver had made his case reasonably enough to tempt such a betrayal. The nutcase rocked on his heels, trying to contain some kind of excitement. When he spoke, Doug wanted to correct the mix up of his name, but the sinister look on the man's face shut his trap.

"Okay, Dirk, here's the plan..."

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><p>Students. Students everywhere. The airship was jam packed with teenagers aspiring to be the next merciless killing machine everyone wanted, and then there was Doug near the back, holding his application for the esteemed position of 'Janitor'. How Khiver had cooked him up a new identity in a matter of hours was anyone's guess, but even this was an improvement. Just yesterday, he had been thinking something as mundane as this was barred to his lowlife self, and now it was more than an attainable job. He had been ecstatic, up until about a minute ago.<p>

First, a hologram had appeared to announce their arrival, and that had been the Blonde Witch who nearly speared his face the other night. Fear crept up on his shoulders.

Second, the message had elicited some chat from the nearby students, one of which was none other than the Red Devil, whose presence was an unbelievably weird coincidence. If she so much as thought she recognized him, he could kiss his ass goodbye.

Fortunately, Doug's innate ability to never stand out kept him safe for the last few moments before the kids got off the airship. He was last, and he hadn't even set both feet on the ground yet before a mop was put into his hands. He looked up to see Miss Glynda Goodwitch, and it took everything in his power not to recoil from the dangerous woman.

"Mr. Dirk Brightsnap, correct? You're the new Janitor?"

He looked down at the tool already in his hands, and then back up. Another quality of his that mixed poorly with subservience reared its head; the uncontrollable urge to be a smartass when someone asked for it. "Unless you're bestowing me with a Huntsman model mop, I'd say so."

She squinted at him. "You may have noticed, but one of the students got motion sickness on the airship. That is your first task of the day... Maintenance is in the basement next to the east stairwell. I will be calling you to meet me in my office before the end of your shift."

Goodwitch turned on her heel and made for the assembly inside Beacon. Doug grimaced, and turned to clean up the first of many messes he would have to. Fortunately, it didn't seem like vomit boy had eaten much this morning, so Doug was through with this in no time and onto Academy grounds.

How Khiver had pulled off a fake ID and background behind it so fast for Doug was still a mystery, but his instructions in the use of it were easy to remember;

'_Get in, do your job, keep your head down. Being the janitor, you'll get used to the school's layout quickly. After the first year students' initiation day, get into the headmaster's office –or one of the teachers like Miss Gumwatch –and piece together when and where __**Weiss Schnee's **__first mission takes place. I'll probably have some other tasks for you, but that's the numero uno. Any questions?'_

He had only asked what the mysterious maniac's interest in the Heiress to Schnee Dust was, which he hadn't answered. Shmots, the one with the mask and goggles following Khiver around, had either tried to tell him something as well or get him to play Simon Says. Coming out of his reverie, Doug made his way down in the main building to where the boiler room and Maintenance office were. He found a detailed day planner for his time as the Janitor on day duty, since those at night didn't need to worry about between-class traffic or occupied rooms. Although today specifically, the freshmen were all having some kind of communal slumber party since no one had teams –thus, no assigned dorms –there were still precise hallways to mop, windows to wipe, and arenas to buff listed here. Doug got to work.

The place was extravagant and huge. At some point they expected him to do some upkeep outside like mowing the giant lawn, scrubbing the fountain and changing the water, sweeping and raking the entire courtyard –but that was for one of the days that most of the students vacated campus. The west wing of the Academy was his first stop; a few classrooms, the main hall, and one of the training gyms to be made spotless for when the initiation was over. Doug owned an apartment and kept it in pretty good condition, so it wasn't as if cleaning was foreign to him even on this kind of scale. He made quick work of the first classroom he came to and made to take another chunk of the hallways on the way to the next.

This is when he heard laughter outside the door, the laughter of a few people at least from the different tones mixing. The students of different years were still free to roam around, of course, though few of them were since classes weren't open today –this wasn't surprising. What was, on the other hand; there were cries of pain and the sound of scuffling.

From here he could see a handful of students, as he expected, across the hall from the door to the classroom he just finished. They were standing over a classmate, some brunette girl, and two of them were kicking her as she curled up to resist the blows. The other two students were pointing and laughing between remarks... The tall ears atop the brunette's head made it obvious as to the reasons why this was happening.

Doug was hardly a henchman, much less a hero. Confrontation was never the first thing to come to his mind; quite the opposite, he was known for his cowardice which was really just reasonable self-preservation at work. The fact was, here he was part of the faculty, and he was supposed to be cleaning up this hall. Even if they were training to be warriors, he was their elder and in a position where action should still be taken. Already he wished that Glynda had just given him her number so he could make her do something about this... he opened the door, garnering attention for a moment, but they returned to what they were doing when a mop bucket rolled out of the room. Apparently, previous janitors turned a blind eye to this sort of thing.

"I could always just do you a favor and tear these things off. Nobody would know the difference, right?" One of the students, a brunette herself but of lighter shade and shorter length, tugged a bit on the rabbit ears atop the victim's head. The face on the Faunus girl was a mixture of displeasure and giving up, saying without words _'just get it over with already'_. It was around now that Doug tapped the antagonist on the shoulder.

"Look, I gotta mop around here. Could you just leave her be and go someplace?" she sneered at him for a second, tilting her head at Doug.

"Get a load of this guy, huh?" One of her friends took her place for a second, clutching one of the rabbit ears to be certain the girl wouldn't escape while the human brunette gave her full attention to the older man. Smiling, she told him what to do with certain parts of himself to certain orifices of his own, and spat in his face.

As the girl turned her back on the janitor and flung another foot into the Faunus' chest, Doug wiped the saliva off his cheek, having to do so twice to get it out of his stubble. There were only so many things to do with the situation now; running off and getting a faculty member to tattle to was a good one. Instead, Doug chose the fun route now that he had probable cause –two three-litre jugs of floor cleaner were unscrewed of their caps, and Doug easily held them aloft over the mean girl's head, being much taller than her. She froze as the thick purple liquid coated her head, shoulders, and sapped down over the rest of her body until dripping off her skirt. Her friends seemed at odds with whether to stop the bullying session or laugh at their leader. They chose the latter.

She turned a one-eighty before he could react, slamming a fist into his gut and throwing him into the wall, and roared as she started pummelling the janitor for this transgression. Doug laughed heartily between each hit; she wasn't weak, but this was tickling compared to the Malachites' or Junior's punishments. "C'mon, you can do better than that! Put some backbone into it!"

Finally, much like the other women he had come to know, she resorted to bringing a knee up into his privates, at which point he coughed and bent over. He still laughed, but with a gasping difficulty, until stating; "I'm sure that made you feel better, but you should probably do something about yourself. Those chemicals are pretty strong..."

Only now did she look down, seeing her clothes beginning to tear where they were damp, as well as seeing some of her hair falling away. She screamed loud and horrified before rushing off, and with one last look at the worker and their targeted student, the other three chose to follow the fleeing brunette; it would seem she'd been the leader after all. Doug slid down against the wall, chuckling despite himself. The girl opposite of him that had been getting battered was in a sitting position too now, her eyes a near perfect match of her hair color. They stared at each other for a minute.

"Er... thanks, mister." She said halfheartedly, as it was obvious he didn't try too hard initially to save her from her fate.

"Uh-huh." He responded. There was another pause. He didn't want to get up because of the knot in his stomach from the groin injury, and she just didn't have the strength quite yet. "Are all the kids here so violent? I signed up for janitor duty so I could stop being a punching bag, to be honest..."

"Marissa's just spiteful... There are a few others, but she's one of the worst. I'm sure there'll be a freshman or two like that, but for the most part Beacon is... nice." She smirked. "Don't get discouraged."

Doug nodded. "Good to know. And uh, thanks..." He trailed off.

"It's Velvet."

"D-... uh, Dirk. That's me –Dirk." She giggled at him.

"Alright, Dirk. You've got a job to do, so I'll get out of your way." She got to her feet a little shakily, but seemed fine once at her full height, trotting away. Doug sighed with relief in not having given himself up on his first day, though dumping floor cleaner on a student was guaranteed to haunt him by the end of his shift. Primarily, he was relieved that Velvet had taken her leave.

Doug wasn't a coward, of that he was certain, but some things did scare him. Women in crimson dresses that could cook you alive scared him. Little red beasts with sniper-scythes scared him. Hot blondes that could create hailstorms of armor-piercing icicles scared him... but most of all, he was afraid of Faunus. Working with Junior's other goons, practically all of them were human and most were pretty full of themselves for being one of a group of thugs, and this led a lot of them to acting rashly, oftentimes against an easy target like a Faunus. This had pissed off the White Fang a good few times, and once or twice brought them to an altercation Junior had to sort out.

These little skirmishes had not been pleasant, but they had eventually developed into one big nasty brawl that he could never forget. A red-haired guy with horns and one of their Grimm masks had come after him with a vengeance amid the fight, wielding a red katana and gun-sheathe hybrid of some kind that had nearly taken Doug's head at least a dozen times that night. It had probably been sheer luck that kept his blood and guts inside his body the way this character had tried to eviscerate him, and ever since then Doug's fear of Faunus had been present whenever he was in the vicinity of one. That fear escalated every day with reports of the White Fang's notorious deeds.

So when Velvet had decided to come back when he wasn't looking, and get his attention when she wasn't too far from him, he almost jumped through the roof and scrambled a few feet from the girl. "Oh! H-hey there! Need something else? "

Velvet was taken aback by his reaction, and he calmed down quick so she could tell him what she wanted now. "Marissa won't take what you did lying down. She'll get you into some kind of trouble..." He figured that much already, but the rabbit seemed to have more to say. "I can vouch for you, if you need it. Call us even that way."

He hadn't even done much to deserve the help she offered, all things considered. His guard began to lessen some. "Sure thing. Thanks, Velvet."

She nodded and held up a hand in a hasty wave, taking herself elsewhere. Perhaps some Faunus weren't so bad...


	4. Chapter 4

**Morning Coffee**

"... and so you dumped two bottles of floor cleaner on her head, is that right?" Glynda finished. Doug nodded, and took her by surprise with his statement;

"I wish I'd had extra at the time. She deserved more than that." It took him a second, but he did at a point realize that was a pretty bad thing to say about a blunder on your first day at the job. "Maybe she thought I was a lowly janitor, not worth her time, but I'm still one of the faculty here. The least she could do is show some respect, seeing as I'll mop up her sweat every day... whaling on other kids is hardly something to ignore, either."

Glynda regarded him with a hard look for a moment, making him sweat, but soon her shoulders slumped from their squared position. She was going to let him off easy. "I wouldn't be so lenient with you had the student you helped not come forward, you know. It's a relief to see that you take your position seriously, rather than making up excuses, and truth be told we dropped our previous janitor because he encouraged the very same behaviour you just dealt with." That was a bit of a shock. The image this produced in Doug's head was of someone in his getup rooting for gang beats on poor Velvet, which was funny and irritating all at once.

"On another note, you said that Marissa hit you?"

"Yeah, body blows mostly. I'm a little sore, but nothing too bad." Glynda was giving him a sort of appraising stare this time, making him more self-conscious than he had been when there was a chance of being reprimanded for soaking a student in chemicals.

She had whatever phony info his file contained on her desk, adjusting her glasses as she read things he couldn't see. He had been made aware of what he should say in a situation where he was asked personal questions, but there was always room for error when pretending to be someone you're not. "Has your aura been unlocked, Mr. Brightsnap?"

"No, ma'am."

She paused, thinking. "Perhaps we should."

Doug gave her a confused look, turning his hands to face palms-up. "Isn't that for you guys? I'm just cleaning up your messes. What would I need my aura for?"

"You may need it if you're going to continue working here like you have today. I like the fact that you're prepared to make a stand for yourself and others –as an adult here, you should show that kind of sense –but you could get seriously hurt if you aggravate a student like that again, let alone the kinds of accidents that take place around here would have much harsher results on you than anyone else. We wouldn't be training you in the full use of your aura, of course –you aren't here to learn, but to earn. The basics of self defense, however, is necessary for all faculty members; you are currently the rare exception to that." He nodded to her.

"Alright, I guess. It's not like I'm going to argue against what's essentially a bonus." As Glynda stood with intent to circle the table, he got out of his seat as well. "So you were going to do this from the start?"

Glynda shook her head. "No. You were hired mainly because you were completely normal; after all, being surrounded by their comrades-in-arms and monsters may make them forget the simpler things, like the people they're fighting for. I can actually do all of what you do, with significantly less time or effort spent on it, but the Janitor of Beacon is more of a title; an excuse for the example we need to keep on hand of the lives our students are meant to protect. That position has changed as we got worse and worse examples... you're the first that seems to be worth having around." Oh, the irony.

She set a hand on his shoulder. "We're here to guide the generations of Hunters that come through this academy. If they were separated at length from the kinds of people they live and die for, they might forget why they do it."

"I kinda see what you mean. They might have free time to see family and visit the city early on, but work can pile up." He paused, having thought of something. "Wouldn't unlocking my aura defeat the purpose? I wouldn't be quite so 'normal' anymore."

Glynda laughed at him. "Oh, you will still be your usual self, Dirk. You will just be able to suffer more stray bullets and explosions than the average human being, and that will be enough. You had better appreciate the privilege."

Doug made a face. "I'm okay with that. So, uh, how do we do this thing?"

"Close your eyes and concentrate." He did so, and a violet hue crept over her body;

"_For it is in passing that we achieve immortality, through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."_

Doug opened his eyes, the sensation flowing all throughout him impossible to describe. Glancing down at himself, a yellowish-green color tinged the air directly surrounding him, and with a look up to the woman before him he took a switch directly to the face.

He wasn't expecting that.

Nearly toppling over backwards as the strike threw him off balance, he caught himself just barely to turn around and face Ms. Goodwitch again with intent to ask what the hell that was all about; she was giving him that appraising look again. "Hm."

"What?" He asked, receiving no reply. She raised her weapon again, and he raised his arms in defense; the blow never came.

"Ah, that's it... Ozpin was right after all. Mr. Brightsnap, I can see why one of our senior students was unable to hurt you." Doug opened one eye, catching the limelike color vanishing from himself again.

"I don't get paid enough for my co-workers to slap me around."

Glynda showed no signs of remorse. "I apologize, but it was requested of me to test your aura given you agreed to have it unlocked. And not surprisingly, your resilience seems to have stemmed from there even before you had proper use of it –our students are trained to be tough, Mr. Brightsnap, so the subconscious activation of your inner strength was the only reason we could think that you walked off the strikes of a third year."

"... uh-huh. So are we done?"

Glynda took her seat again, looking him in the eye. "You say we don't pay you enough to get slapped around by co-workers... but what about students?"

"If we're talking about Marissa, it would seem that way, wouldn't it? I haven't quit... though I can't say I want that to happen again." He said. She looked down at her desk.

"Alright, then. I have something specific in mind for you tomorrow, so don't be late."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Doug opened the door to the west wing's arena, only to find it in use. His schedule today had said this wouldn't be the case, so thinking maybe there were some mistake, intended to leave and check the east wing's. Glynda's voice thundered over to him before he could shut the door; "Right on time, Mr. Brightsnap. Come up here, please."<p>

He quirked a brow, but did as he was told, setting aside his tools and ascending the stairs to the arena floor. Not seeing anything needing his immediate attention as the caretaker, he gave the teacher a questioning leer. She in turn directed him to stand beside her. "Class, today I'll be introducing you to a new competitive training exercise, the centerpiece of which will be our resident janitor Mr. Brightsnap."

A murmur passed over the spectator's row where most of them were seated. Glynda continued; "Your duty first and foremost is to protect others, but normally you are sent to intercept Grimm before they can reach Humans or Faunus. Sometimes, however, they will be in immediate danger. Today, the matches up here will be one-on-one team battles; one team will play the role of hunters. The other will play the role of Grimm."

"Oh god, really?" Doug asked, not getting an answer. The students got a quick laugh outof the remark, but quieted down as Ms. Goodwitch continued;

"Simply put, one team will be fighting to defend Mr. Brightsnap here from the opposing team. If Mr. Brightsnap's aura drops to red, the Grimm automatically win, and also win if one or more of their members take Mr. Brightsnap out of the arena with them." So they either had to pummel or kidnap him. This couldn't get much better...

"The usual rules apply to the Hunters' team; ring-out the Grimm team, or drop their auras to red standing. Any volunteers for our first round?" Glynda was already looking at who she expected to be raising their hand. "Alright, team _Mulberry _will be taking?..."

Marissa grinned as she was chosen. Doug cursed under his breath. "We'll be the Grimm team, Ms. Goodwitch."

Glynda scanned the students for another hand, also knowing who she was looking for. She had to suppress the rare smile she might make, once seeing that only Velvet of team _Coffee _had her hand up, and her team's leader Coco was having a moment to contain her surprise.

"Team _Coffee, _please come up here and protect Mr. Brightsnap."


	5. Chapter 5

**Side Characters**

Doug stood twiddling his thumbs at the center of the arena, hunters-in-training on his left and right. Glynda was taking her sweet time announcing the start of the match, if only to make him squirm and get the two teams more wound up... He decided in the back of his mind that it was definitely her office he would 'clean' for the info Khiver wanted out of him. Even if she didn't know, his spite would go fulfilled.

His aggressors were the three men and Marissa from before, each with their own getup. They were mostly dull colors and mildly armored, though Marissa had on some kind of showy eastern-style getup, showing off the legs and cleave more than was necessary. Teenagers... By the look of it, the three guys had variations of swords each; one had shortswords, another had a wavy longsword of some sort and the last had a falchion. Marissa herself had a big,funky-looking gun, staying in the back of her team.

His protectors were one huge beefcake of an asian guy with a curved orange blade, a tan kid with arm slicer things, and two girls with fashionable shoulder bags. He wasn't feeling too confident in leaving without some serious pain beforehand... He also could help but think that the leader of Velvet's team, this 'Coco' chick, was checking him up and down like he was some kind of sign with text for all five feet and ten inches of his body. When he held his gaze over her for a second, she dropped her shades slightly in order to gaze back and wink. He was now even less sure of how to compose himself.

"BEGIN!" Glynda bellowed, and an energy shockwave was fired that he just barely ducked under. Damned Marissa.

"Give me a bloody countdown, at least!" Doug shouted, which had the spectators roaring as he saw the short-sworder of _Mulberry _approach. _Coffee's _beefcake grabbed Doug's shirt, pulling him into a spot behind he and the red-headed tan kid. The boys sporting two weapons each began to clash wildly, speedy hits lighting up the air between them and sparks cast all over, while the long-sword kid was trying to dance around beefcake while the very wind pressure from the brute's swings sent this opponent almost off his feet as he dodged.

As these melee fighters were drawn elsewhere, the falchion guy came after him, the blade of his weapon lighting up and growing in length before he made to strike; Coco swung her designer bag up under the horizontal swing, knocking the blade well off course and giving a nonchalant roundhouse to the guy's head, flooring him. One of her hands were still pocketed at her side. "This is ugly even for you, Marissa."

Coco tilted her head to one side after the quip, avoiding another burst of what turned out to be green lightning all coiled up in a cylindrical beam from Marissa's gun. The girl didn't look like she was in the mood to be saying anything back, and Velvet now flanked Doug herself. Maybe he should have had more confidence in the girls, seeing as they were students here too. It was the first time he'd seen a purse outmatch anything, let alone a sword.

As the falchion guy rolled away from Coco, he made a dash for Doug, getting stopped by a swift hand-to-hand combo from Velvet that ended with the finest leg drop he'd ever seen. However, the next shot fired by Marissa was aimed at him; Coco tried to get his attention and have him move, but he was preoccupied with watching the other teammates fighting it out. As Doug turned toward Coco's insistence, he saw the brilliant projectile from Marissa hurtling toward him, shielding himself at the last moment; Doug went into the full-on stance of cowardice with a leg drawn up, arms covering his head and torso hunched.

The surge of energy struck his body, and bounced off.

Like it hit a mirror, the laser refracted and flew up to the ceiling. Doug was in the exact same position he was before, but the force of the shot hitting him sent his body crashing across the arena floor; he was somehow locked into the pose he took before getting shot even as this happened. Stiff as a statue, Doug only became limber once he stopped near the edge of the arena, blinking a few times in confusion. His aura dispersed from the coat it had taken over his form, as well.

Short-swords guy and the tan kid were both pretty close by, and they threw one last blow at each other before both sprinting at the janitor. Doug scrambled and failed to get up for a second, having to push off the ground with his hands and flop out of harm's way, the edges of his enemy's swords digging in where he was not moments ago. The guy had swung too hard, and embedded his weapons, and the tan kid used this opportunity to slam a two-palm strike into his opponent, knocking him out of the arena. One down...

Beefcake now grabbed Doug's collar, and chucked him like a sack of grain further into the arena to avoid a ring-out while his other hand grabbed his own enemy's wrist, who had also been trying to break away after Doug now, too. Once grabbing the other arm of the guy, he merely lifted the swordsman up off the ground and held him out to the tan kid, who proceeded to pummel the hell out of and defeat the second _Mulberry _member.

Meanwhile, Velvet was knocking around the falchion guy so hard that she made it look easy, but had to lay off the schooling as another surge of energy poured out from Marissa. Coco was sauntering up to the other team's leader, as if she had all the time in the world. Marissa seemed intimidated enough, which was why she continued to shoot at the teammates of Coco's she considered distracted; Beefcake avoided another burst, and as Velvet made to attack the falchion guy again she was forced closer than she wanted to be by the last shot, at which point her adversary twisted her arm back and spun her around, dropping his weapon to pin her arms and have her face away. "Marissa!"

Coco whacked Marissa in the side of the head with her bag, but she took the hit to slide into a prone position, taking aim at Velvet and charging up one last shot from her gun. Beefcake, in the heat of the moment, jumped up and came down like a bat out of hell on the girl, but she loosed the blast just as he crashed into her with both feet. As it looked like Velvet might be scorched by the beam, Doug... didn't jump in the way, or anything of that nature.

Rather, he grabbed her and turned the pair, so Marissa's accomplice here would take the shot to his back. This was enough to have him let go of Velvet, and the Faunus gave him a pent-up boot to the face that sent the boy sprawling. Glynda's voice rose over the din of classmates, ruling the match in favor of _Coffee. _Immediately, Doug took two steps away from Velvet and bumped into the broad chest of the asian beefcake, and glancing straight up over his shoulder saw the muscled Huntsman hadn't really changed in expression. He set a hand firmly on Doug's shoulder with two approving pats before joining Velvet, and the Tan kid walked past him as well, though he was already just hopping down.

Then, a loud noise took place and a searing pain leapt up from the back of Doug's knees. Pitching forward as well as flipping upside-down, his legs were taken out from the blast and his head craned forward as the back of it met the floor. Coming to settle on his neck and shoulders, gravity forced the rest of him to fall.

Glynda was on _Mulberry's _leader in an instant, snatching the girl's weapon out of her hands as well as grabbing one of them. "Are you proud of yourself, Ms. Azalea?"

Coco was kneeling next to Doug, and not bothering to look at Ms. Goodwitch, said; "He's not hurt too bad. Just some minor burns." He hadn't even quite lost consciousness, as the groans coming from him proved.

"Be thankful for that..." Glynda muttered to the student she clutched, marching over to the janitor. She waited for a moment, seeing the damage herself and finding Coco's assessment sound. Doug sat up. "Feeling alright?"

"... You really gotta expel her, or something." He glowered up at Marissa, who looked like she wanted to take her gun and jam it into his mouth this time.

Ms. Goodwitch's presence kept the girl in check. "We'll see. The rest of the period will be free study; would you watch them while I take Ms. Azalea to see the headmaster?"

"Mhm." He agreed absently, watching the teacher vacate. He knew that these kids were intimidated by the woman, and wouldn't risk her wrath even in this moment of having a sore janitor watch over them, so found things to do or chatted quietly. Doug chose to stay right where he was, swinging his legs over the edge of the ring so he could keep the burns off the ground but still keep seated.

Velvet sat a few feet to his side, probably having realized he liked his space. "That didn't go as well as I hoped it might. If she'd really been a Grimm, you'd be dead..."

"She cheated. You had 'em outclassed, easy... hell, I hardly remember what they even look like already. Bunch of side characters." He turned to her slightly. "I'm fine. You did your job, and you'll keep doin' it."

Coco was standing below the stage, in front of Doug and just under direct eye level. They regarded each other in silence for a minute. "To be honest, I was going to let you get roughed up a little, but I guess they chose a decent guy for the janitor this time."

"I keep hearing that, but I didn't do anything special." They were giving praise to a common thug, even if they didn't realize. Were the caretakers before him really so bad?

Velvet seemed to find that entertaining. "I'm glad to hear that's nothing special, since you kept me from getting shot. Should I expect you to do that all the time?" Beefcake looked like he was annoyed, hanging out near where the stands began.

"You can always... I dunno... smack a bitch, before they shoot you. I doubt she'll have some grunt to hold you down next time." Doug replied. Coco laughed at that idea. "I don't see how those dweebs kicking you around is fine, but the second they're trying to maim someone like me you're volunteering for guard duty."

Velvet shyed out of the conversation, and Coco watched her for a second before changing the subject into a parting. "Keep up the good work, Mr. Brightsnap. And pick up some better clothes next time you go out... clean up a little, and the girls here will be all over you."

Doug watched Coco give him that wink again, and she led Velvet to their teammates among classmates. The girl's stride and attitude were almost overwhelming.

He very briefly considered her advice.

* * *

><p><strong>|I wanted to have at least a few of the early chapters involve <strong>_**CFVY**_**, but my lack of knowledge on their characters bugs me. When volume 3 comes around, I'll be letting you guys know if I intend to come back here and tidy up the interactions a bit. Until we get some more insight, I'll be playing it a bit safe. - ****Aldiev|**


	6. Chapter 6

**Facetious Felines**

"Senpai, I made you dinner." Doug said, setting the plate on his kitchen table. His apartment only had the linoleum tiled kitchen with room for maybe two people, the poorly carpeted living room, and the closet-like bedroom to begin with. He received no reply to the statement, nor any form of acknowledgement whatsoever.

"Senpai." Nothing at all.

"I swear to god, you're gonna notice me before you eat this." Doug glared daggers, and still, he was given the cold shoulder.

The cat laid still on the end of his couch, disinterested as always, like finally showing it knew who kept her fed and healthy would be criminal. He sighed, finding his pet's namesake was still sadly fitting. The animal hadn't given him more than a two-second long, blank stare since he got it as a kitten years past. His daily attempts were in vain; catnip, toys, treats, nothing made Senpai notice him. His girl trouble reminded him of what Coco said earlier that day, before leaving him to his own devices.

The truth was, despite having a penchant for talking down to the students, he wasn't a whole lot older than them. He was just barely twenty-two years of age, as much as his scruff and stress lines made him appear years more than that; otherwise, he couldn't have blended in with the crowd Junior rolled him up with. For the girls of the academy to take an interest wasn't out of the question, but not impossible either, as Coco showed by commenting in the first place –though, as far as he could tell, she had just made an observation about him, not a target out of him. Even then, he still thought she was off the mark, seeing as his recent profession hardly gave him a good image to show the ladies.

Doug had a personal age range he refused to even fathom a person outside of, and this was mostly because of the Malachite twins; being the only girls near his own age that he'd known for long, they had given him a negative impression of girls younger than he. This didn't make him more attracted to older women, though; if anything, his run-ins with Glynda were making him think that steering clear of the opposite sex entirely was the only way to remain safe and pain-free... That was a dangerous train of thought. Doug derailed it immediately.

A quick picture snapped of Glynda's mission planner for first-year students had been sent to Khiver last night, and the reply text had given him the A-OK. That evidence was deleted already, though if anyone ever captured the basket case before he acted upon it, Doug could kiss his ass goodbye. There was no time to worry about the dirt piling around his feet after checking his voice mail, however, having gotten a call back from the Omeghis Corporation about his application. The one he hadn't sent, that is –surely, more work stacked on his desk from his enigmatic employer. _RWBY's_ classified first embarking must have been all he wanted from Beacon for now, which meant a new job to gather new intel. Did he expect him to drop the Janitor gig?

No. He would work both unless Khiver told him directly otherwise... Doug picked up his wrinkled dress shirt, evading the red one that was once worn to appease prior employers. He tore the plastic cover off the pants hanging in the closet, followed by finding the nicest shoes he owned and a necktie. He had an interview to attend, an appearance to spruce up just like Coco had advised, a sales pitch to throw which would convince them they wanted Doug for a position he knew nothing about. The meeting was in about an hour and a half, so he showered, shaved, and made a sandwich.

Keys, wallet, phone, smokes –all check. He had a momentary battle of wills with his cat again, stepping into her line of sight just so she could turn her head and face the wall. "Fine, be that way. Eyes on the house, no crazy parties, you know how it goes. "

Doug exited the apartment and locked his unit, number twenty, passing nineteen through sixteen on his way to the stairs. He lived on the second level of a motor complex that made a U shape around the parking lot, taking a moment to wave to the thousand-someodd-year-old lady that owned the place. She sat in the office, and never changed expression, just offered waves in greeting or parting and asked for rent. For some reason, she was rather intimidating, even though she was half his size.

Doug performed a cop slide over the hood of his cream-colored car, an old Voxwagon that had more miles than he had hairs on his head. The vehicle had seen some rough days and still kept kicking, despite the dents from neglect, a headlight that acted up, and semi-circles of rust loitering by his tires. Fishing out the keys he checked for prior, he turned it in the ignition, getting the customary sputter of rejection that would repeat two to four times before the engine would wake. _'I've still got twenty minutes, not including the drive. I can probably nab a coffee from Jim Nortons.'_

Coco sprang to mind again, and he blinked a few realization that she and her team would suggest itself each time he got a cup made him drop his forehead into the top of the steering wheel for a second, and he finally got the motor running on his car with another twist of the wrist. He lit a dart and took a grateful inhale before actually driving out of the lot, curious to see what trouble Khiver wanted him into next...

* * *

><p>The Omeghis Corporation's main building was like a gigantic sunflower seed jammed into the earth at the far end of Vale's industrial region, the sheer size being the only reason one would know it were here if they didn't work there; it was fifty storeys high, but as described before, it widened out as it went down, especially at the base where other small buildings sat attached like a planet's ring. Sleek, and looking like the entirety were made of blue glass from how tight-knit the windows were, The doors at the front were actually hard to tell apart from these until one got close. Doug circled for a close parking spot, jumped out and didn't bother to lock up. No one would steal his junk heap from a place like this... polishing off his coffee, Doug thumbed out two breathmints and tried not to look too distressed as he entered through automatic doors.<p>

The obviously tweaked receptionist gave him a plastic smile and pushed up her plastic bosom, asking what he might be in for today. "I'm here for an interview."

"Mr. Brightsnap?"

Same alias as before. Good sign that he should keep on with Beacon's grunt work. "Yes."

She forced another smile, "You will be headed down the hall to your left, where there will be a standard procedure search of your person, and from there you will be escorted to Lt. Wyser's office. Please come back the way you came after your business is concluded."

"Thank you." Doug kept it short, passing her by and adjusting his collar. Four armed men stood at what looked like an airport checkpoint, taking his four items he made sure to leave home with and patting him down. They were quickly satisfied that he wasn't sneaking in any weapons or chemicals, so one took him to the elevator close by, rang it down, and pressed the eleventh floor. They waited in silence.

The clearly disinterested escort saw him to the office door, and then spun to march right back the way he came, setting an example of what Doug must have been expected to do. He knocked three times, and heard something muffled from the other side, taking that as his cue to come in.

The office was expectable, though there were a few pleasantries here and there, like a poster bearing an old PSA and similarly droll emplacements. The woman awaiting him had her hair tied into such a tight black bun that he could swear her scalp was ready to tear at the hair line, half-rimmed glasses with a neck chain sitting on her dainty nose. In black and blue blouse and business skirt customary of the establishment, she was probably ten or more years ahead of Glynda Goodwitch in age, and many of those years must have been devoid of laughter judging by the way her face naturally lingered on displeased.

"Welcome, Mr. Brightsnap. Have a seat."

"Call me Doug-..."

Already a fumble at the starting line. He scrambled to fix the mistake; "Dirk. It's Dou-, irk. Dirk. It's Dirk Brightsnap, that's me all right, thank you ma'am, how are you doing?" So this was what it was like to drown in panic.

She took her own seat across from the one he struggled to take with dignity after his opening line, glaring him down. "You seem rather skittish, for someone applying for Night Security."

"I just got felt up by strangers with guns. I can see why you might find that relaxing, but we probably have different tastes." Doug told his mouth it was being bad, and needed to wait for his brain to check the script before delivery.

Much to his surprise, she smirked. "There you are. That's the confidence we want around here, Mr. Brightsnap." She paused, skimming whatever her computer screen said about him right now. They went back and forth with simple questions that he still had to struggle with, since he had no idea how his new identity had been tailored to respond; it was causing him to fall back on his sarcasm, as that had proven effective so far and it was better than stammering. "Why do you want to work here?"

"It's been my dream since childhood, being a minimum-wage rent-a-cop."

"My, you were quite the ambitious one. Why Omeghis Corp.?"

"I thought about trying Schnee Dust, but guarding a pile of rocks sounds even duller than whatever cabinet I'll have eyes on here."

"Why exactly should I choose you over other applicants?"

"I'm occasionally laserproof, truth be told; tried and proven. That ought to be a plus." She gave him a look at that proclamation. "Er, I have my aura opened up. The other day it proved to be a nice little perk at job number two."

Lieutenant Wyser folded her hands. "Go on... What's this other job?"

"Janitor at Beacon Academy. Day shift. I only just started this week, since I wasn't expecting another response to my applications, but I assure you I can double up." She eyed him longer than he thought necessary, moving so little it appeared she stopped breathing.

She lifted a pen now, and rifling through paperwork she spoke without keeping him under that dead man's stare of hers. "Alright, I'll cut you out of weekends. Eleven to six, Monday through Friday, not a moment later. Understood?"

"Loud and clear."

She set a number of sheets with empty spaces for his signature on his end of the desk, along with a punch-in card and copy of the schedule. After the necessary scribbles and pocketing of items he stood, and took the hand she offered to shake. "You come highly recommended to us, Mr. Brightsnap, but you should watch that attitude of yours. If you had been with Lt. Keene, there would still be an open slot on the night crew right now."

"Glad to know I got the _Wiser _of you two." She cringed at the pun. He almost did too.

"Don't make me fire you, Dirk. Or is it Doug?" He froze for a moment, trying to fight down the panic again.

"Both, actually. My old boss always told me I wasn't sharp enough to be a Dirk, so he just kept calling me Doug instead." The story he pulled out of his ass to justify an identity mix-up seemed just demeaning enough for his new second boss to take at face value, smirking again.

"He must not have known his daggers. You seem plenty sharp to me." She winked. He took a reflexive step toward the door.

'_Uh-uh. No. This isn't happening... I can't even get my own cat to notice me, let alone a friggin' cougar! Please please PLEASE-'_

Stepping around the desk, Lt. Wyser went to the door and opened it for Doug while he had a meltdown. "I'll see you soon, Dirk. Don't be late."

He shuffled awkwardly past the woman, catching more expressions he couldn't unsee as well as an obvious rub-up against him in the doorway, and soon walked briskly out the building for a cigarette.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ambiguous Opus**

Doug had really been hoping he wouldn't see Coco today, but of course, that was a wish that wouldn't be granted. Just yesterday she had told him to clean up his appearance. Coming home to a surprise interview, he had no choice but to look as good as possible, and this morning he took a look in the mirror –if this wasn't taken as following her advice, her expectations were a lot higher than he could even fulfill, and both outcomes would be awkward anyway.

He was somewhat content with his weekly schedule between both jobs now, despite working like a dog between them both; Beacon shifts consisted of Tuesday to Saturday from either noon to eight, or one to nine o'clock, leaving an hour or two to scamper home and drive over to _Omeghis_ for his eleven-PM to six-AM's. This meant Mondays belonged to his night shift, Saturdays were for his caretaking, days in between were hectic jumps back and forth, and Sundays were thankfully clear. Even if he were undercover so to speak, these were still paying jobs, so his bank account was seeing some serious improvement. Today was Saturday, so it was devoted to the school and his cleaning duties, no night watch later.

The dorms where students stayed on Academy grounds were their own responsibility, but the halls and rec rooms within the dormitory building were his zone to oversee; today, he was to shine up the spacious network of paths and check out a vending machine reported broken. Doug wasn't entirely sure if he could even fix it, but he would find a way eventually, seeing as he wasn't letting a stubborn dispenser of drinks get him canned. Pun intended.

Reaching the intersection near the entrance where the machine was, he found it somewhat surrounded; It took everything in his power not to flinch when he saw the little red kid from the dust heist gone wrong, and the blonde from the club demolition, standing with two others in front of it. Around the time blondie kicked it, he was forced to take a chance and step in;

"Oi, watch it. That's school property... I'll, uh, see what I can do." The four of them turned around at the voice, and he pegged the third instantly as Weiss Schnee, which made him nearly flinch upon sight as he had just disclosed vital information about her to a nutjob the other day. She gave him a look like a princess trying to remember which butler was addressing her, which seemed fitting. The fourth, a taller girl with black hair, yellow eyes, and a bow, was utterly foreign to him. Just making eye contact was giving him a pretty strong and unexplainable unease.

The blonde backed off as instructed, and the rest of them parted to give him access to the vendor. "Sorry. I wanted a Grape Crash and it ate, like, five bucks already."

The 'People Like Grapes' brand was pretty popular, so he wasn't surprised that she had been so persistent in getting one. Standing before the machine, he looked it up and down for a way to open the whole thing. Sadly, nothing jumped out at him, and the four students were getting impatient already.

"Are you going to fix it or not?"

He sighed. "I started this week, and they never really told me what I was supposed to do with the appliances. I have the tools, but ah... You need to know where the screws are to use a screwdriver, and so on." Weiss threw her hands up in exasperation, trotting off rather than watch the useless janitor fumble with the machine. The one with the bow and Red both chased her, which was relieving, but the Blonde was still giving him an odd look.

"Have we met?" She asked. He instinctively gulped, making himself look suspicious before even replying.

"Nah. I don't get out much; I've got two jobs. You're probably mixing me up with some other average joe." He still couldn't find a way into the object, and the blonde just continued to wait for her soda, making him nervous. Suddenly, a voice behind him;

"May I borrow your tools?" Another student, a sandier blonde, this one with a denim hat and gloves with his uniform. He looked almost as if he was obscuring his own features on purpose with the extra attire, kneeling next to the box of assorted janitor stuff nearby.

"I kinda need 'em for this thing, if that wasn't obvious."

"There is an impression two inches above your right hand; press it, push the faceplate of the machine in to get it off the pin hook, and then pull to open the vending machine." Both Doug and the blonde girl quirked a brow, but he did as instructed and the vendor popped open.

The monotonous student continued, like a tape telling him how to do his job; "The workings are locked, as you can see at the right hand side; you should have the key for the padlock on your person."

As the lock was removed, the kid in the hat held the box out to Doug, and in taking the toolbox back he backed away from the machine. The kid used the chance to move in.

Doug watched him reach inside, twist and push things for about two seconds, and then three Grape Crash cans dropped into the slot at the bottom. Taking one of them, the ambiguous opus simply walked away with a nod. The other two were claimed by the blonde girl, who had been laughing until the rest of the non-dispensed beverages tumbled out of the machine; well over a dozen, some of which dented or even broke open on the floor. He and the blonde were both sprayed with soda, though not much.

"Thanks for the warning..." She said sarcastically, the boy not having heard as he stepped around the corner. It looked like she wasn't too annoyed when she still had the others, and only wanted one in the first place. The Janitor was right there, after all... she took her leave, bidding him goodbye while she went to probably wash the bottom of her uniform and get the liquid sugar off her legs. He simply used the rag he was bound to have on hand.

Doug went reverse through what the kid had told him to do, shutting and locking the now working machine. Next was to clean up the faulty merchandise, maybe keep a few for the fridge at home; what the school didn't know wouldn't hurt it, and Doug did in fact like grapes. After a few minutes of mopping, another familiar voice popped up, drawing his attention from his work –Velvet sauntered over from the entrance, followed by Coco. _'...Dammit.'_

"Doesn't look like he fixed it." Velvet said, Doug shaking his head.

"No, it works now. I sorta fixed it." He had opened the thing to be fixed, so he had done his part, more or less. Velvet sunk some change into it and acquired some flavor he didn't think moved from the slot it occupied, which made him blink.

Coco was eying him up and down like a date shark might, rating someone of the opposite sex at the bar. It was a lot like last time, except judging by her smirk, he scored higher than he had in class yesterday. "Lookin' sharp, Dirk."

The comment was both a bad pun, and threw back to unpleasant memories of his encounter with a jungle cat previously. "I'd say so. Interview lady last night probably would've ousted me before I got a word in, if I hadn't."

She looked like she hadn't even heard a word of that beyond agreement. Instead, she'd gotten uncomfortably close, and had a hold of his collar. "What is this?"

Doug glanced down, and then back up, face blank. "... my shirt?"

She let go of him, wiggling her fingers like something had gotten on them and she were flicking it off. "More like cloth. Ugly, cheap cloth."

"Wasn't aware I should wear my Doc Marvin's to work." She ignored the comment, instead holding out her hand again.

"Hand me your phone."

"I'm faculty _and _the adult here, you know." She looked even more stern, and not wanting to get smacked by a Grimm-killing purse, chose to do as she said anyways. She fiddled with it and tossed it into the air for him to catch.

"Don't be late." Coco said, taking her leave with that swagger she always carried in her stride. All the while, Doug glared down at the phone, the number for all members of team CFVY now registered. There was already a text from Coco Adel, with a time and location...

He closed it and set it away, not sure what that was all about so instead turning his attention to Velvet. She seemed to be liking whatever drink she'd gotten from the machine.

"I'm sure she just –ACK!" She went to say something to him, but a team of students passing by her cut her off mid-sentence when one reached out and togged one of her ears, hard enough to nearly floor her. She soothed the feature atop her head, looking as the broader fellow and his three punkish-looking team members made to leave just as quickly; bullying was apparently just that casual.

Doug looked at Velvet, back to the kids, and down at his hands. Shaking the hell out of one of the sodas, he called after them; "Hold on, hold on. Ear-puller, come 'ere for a sec."

The redheaded boy nodded the others on and came back, giving Doug a defiant look and Velvet one of detest. "Is there a problem?"

Smirking, the Janitor nodded in an approving way. "What's your name?"

"Cardin Winchester." The name rolled out with pride –Doug didn't recognize it.

"From me to you, kiddo." He pressed the can into his hands, turned him around, and shooed him toward the exit. Doug and the Faunus beside him got to watch purple spray up all over the guy's chin and chest just as the doors shut behind him, and his cries of surprise and anger were muffled as they closed.

Velvet actually smiled, stepping around the caretaker but being sure to face him as she did. "Well, I have to go, but I was saying that Coco probably just wants to help you in some way. So...See you soon, Dirk."

He waved to the girl, and dealt with an enraged Cardin re-entering the building as the girl left, who lost all his fight for the time being when Doug asked if he was threatening beacon staff over a poorly handled pop. Just how soon he would see Velvet again was something he hadn't quite realized at the time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Treacherous Trip**

When getting the message from Coco, Doug recognized the place she was talking about as an unreasonably classy boutique of some kind, but had never gone into. He was fairly certain that the Malachites got their skimpy and frivolous outfits there, or from some close competitor of it with similar color and advertising schemes. He cared too little to think much further on the subject.

Doug already had a strong feeling that he knew what she'd requested him here for, and by the time she –and not surprisingly, Velvet –arrived fashionably late, he asked Coco about it before she was even done approaching. "Did you get me to come here to be your pack mule?"

"Expecting better?" She looked slightly less empowered when he took out a cigarette and lit it, which obviously prevented him from entering the establishment yet. They watched as the Janitor powered back his smoke like it was an asthma puffer, which wasn't even remotely charming, and flick the butt into the parking lot. He blew the aftermath aside before he continued. "Just a little surprised. Is your titan of a teammate hard to fit through the door or something?"

"It's not fitting _through, _it's fitting _in._ The looks he gets in any girl's clothing store make him uncomfortable, even if he's sticking close... Well, we think so. He can be hard to read." Velvet explained, Coco already strutting past the front doors with a push of her sunglasses. He was half-expecting the employees to bow down as she browsed.

Doug offered one of his mints to Velvet as he used another to fight the scent of tobacco he was now carrying, and she politely refused as they both dawdled behind Coco. The girl ahead of them seemed to be having a hard time committing to any of the articles of clothing she came across; for a store she must have liked, the contents were still hard to meet her standards by the look on her face.

"Why're you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"We're in the dude section." Velvet hadn't even really noticed, being between the men and women's areas of the store; she'd just been glancing over the female clothing on her other side. Coco spoke as she decided to hold up a shirt in front of Doug, gauging how it would look if he wore it.

"You know the saying; 'a diamond in the rough'? I may not be one for diamonds, but I'm going to polish it up if I just-so-happen across one. It would be a shame not to." He gave her a skeptical look as she picked out another shirt, this time pinning it to his shoulders after it passed this test from a distance. He regarded her with this same look until she gave him one that suggested he ought to stop. "If you've got a problem with that, don't just stare. Open your mouth."

Doug wasn't on board with this. Charity for charity's sake shouldn't come to someone who earned his keep; there were much better places for her money and taste in getups to go than on him, even if she thought he made a good canvas for that. He worked hard, and if he thought he needed to improve his appearance that was for him to put effort toward. Still, he didn't say anything to her as she continued to find more clothes for someone she hardly knew, mainly because he didn't want to offend her after what he'd seen her do before, but also because it sounded like he'd gotten half of her reasoning while the other sat waiting to be said.

Besides, his attention had been drawn entirely elsewhere, lost even to the two he was with.

"That tall guy in the jeans section is hiding a gun, I think." Doug said, with a hint of fascination. Coco was so taken from left field by the statement that she didn't bother to push up her sunglasses as they slid down her nose –just looked at him incredulously, and then turned to see where he was looking. An unremarkable man standing a few inches taller than Doug stood sliding the many wears over on their hooks, and if she had to guess, her first would be father of two.

Velvet also gave the person a peripheral flicker, and found herself thinking the same. "He seems harmless enough."

Doug started to wander, and soon he was shaking his head. "Nah, he's in on it. So's that dude in the line-up; he's gonna draw on the cashiers and cover the entrance at the same time." Doug wasn't making any gestures, so it was hard to tell who exactly in the line he was talking about. "Buddy in the wife-beater is loitering next to the bathroom like he's waiting for someone to come out, but he's on the emergency door a few feet away. There's another one or two guys around here waiting to pounce on anybody who tries to split, too, I'd say... Soon as waiting-line guy is behind the manager on till eight, leaving with his 'purchase', they're gonna make their move."

The girls, after looking at the men he described without pointing, thought that his claims held a bit more water than they first seemed to, if only because the first he'd brought up and the one by the washrooms were occasionally glancing at each other... but now the last male waiting in line had checked out, and was soon to pass behind the manager. The bearded man wearing a white and green oriented outfit took a six-shooter out of his waistband and pushed it into the back of the manager's head. "_Nobody move!_"

"_Get on the floor! Hands behind your head!_"

"_Stop right there! Turn around, on the floor!_"

Each of the men Doug had pointed at revealed their own weapons, as well as another that he hadn't but alluded to. Pandemonium exploded onto the scene as the many shoppers and employees were surprised, and that was quelled quickly by the threats made... but Doug was next to two girls who weren't going down, no doubt about it. The fatherly-looking fellow got closer to the trio, pointing the barrel of a shotgun at Coco. "I said 'on the floor'."

Coco unleashed the gatling gun from her bag, aiming it back. "Maybe you should."

Velvet stood with her back against her leader's, Doug hitting the tiled floor since he was a civilian himself. Since the standoff had begun, three of the four would have to surround them in order to tip the scales in their favor, but two of them were covering the entrance/exit and fire escape... As expected, the one standing by this back door was the one to yield his position; their mistake was coming just a bit too close in the heat of the moment.

If one were to ask how quickly two huntresses could strike down and disarm four criminals, the estimate most would give had nothing on the real thing. Coco threw her enormous gun into the one to her left as her foot lashed out in a roundhouse to her right, and Velvet knocked the handgun out of the third man's hand during a spin that gave her other arm enough force to throw her bag across the room, straight into the man holding the manager at gunpoint. He was nailed square in the face during his attempts at getting all of the cashiers to round up their collective tills' finances as well as talking the manager into the safe code. Both tasks had blinded him to the unusual projectile.

The manager hit an under-desk button for security, and soon, the four were apprehended. Even through the waves of gratitude from the people fearing for their lives, Coco and Velvet could see the Janitor beeline for the door.

Outside the building, Doug shakily took out a cigarette and lit it, huffing it back as he smacked his own forehead. '_Why did I bring that up? There was no damn point! Whether I said anything or not, that would have gone the same way, and now..._'

"How did you know what they were up to, Mr. Brightsnap?" He'd gone and done something that made him stand out. He was having a difficult time following the Henchman's first rule since taking this espionage variant of his previous line of work... the only reason the two of them hadn't seen it coming even before Doug was because aura allowed hunters to sense bloodlust, or direct hostility; the four burglars had been hostile with an end in mind to everyone in the store, and following greed rather than murderous intent, and thus unable to set off that sixth sense. He turned while making sure to keep away from Velvet with his cancer stick, lest it upset her possibly higher sense of smell.

"Call it a hunch." That was a lie; Doug knew exactly what he'd seen and searched out thereafter because he had been a part of such plans numerous times, robbed numerous locations, held more innocents at gunpoint than likely any of those four had combined. What they had just thwarted was once the bread and butter of his everyday life, so anyone about to do the same was easily discernible to his eye. He just wasn't about to say that, of course.

Coco gave him a flash of her eyes from above her glasses, not buying it. "You had four hunches about the same thing?"

Pausing, it was obvious he was looking for the right words. Then, he shrugged. "I knew because it's what I would have done, if I wanted to rob a big fashion outlet. Hypothetically, anyhow... and that doesn't sound very good when it's the only answer I've got. Makes me sound like I fold my hands and sit in an evil lair on my days off."

The image he painted caused Velvet to laugh, and even Coco to crack a bit of a smile. "You're way too harmless for something like that."

"Should I be relieved or offended?"

"Maybe some of both." Coco concluded. "So, these are yours."

Doug caught three bags that she tossed his way, all full of some several thousand dollars worth of duds. He caught sight of an Arnami suit in there somewhere. "You going to fake a sick day on one of your boys to take me clubbing next? Because that's crossing the line."

"My job here is done, Mr. Brightsnap. See you at school tomorrow." She nodded to Velvet, and took her leave much the way she always arrived. Doug fought to keep his gaze focused elsewhere, which was only easy once he took interest in his new belongings.

Two of the three bags would find themselves in the hands of a hobo and a local charity drive, but the last was tucked away into his apartment's closet, where Senpai wouldn't get fur all over the contents.


	9. Chapter 9

**Distinguished Depravity**

Being night security for Omeghis was a damn good position for someone with ulterior motives. As much as the Omeghis Corporation was known for their manpower rather than automated hardware or impressive gear, the culmination of what they did have in these departments was what they had outside their main branch in Vale, and these were nothing to laugh at. The sentry guns with targeting and night vision, electrical and barbed-wire fences, hidden turrets, and sheer number of other patrolmen such as he would dissuade anyone with half a brain. The big seed-shaped building was also covered by a pentagon of enormous anti-air towers, all of which could snipe out a fighter jet coming from over the country border. Well, that may have been an exaggeration, but from looks alone the weapons jutting off the tops of these spires gave Doug such an impression.

As such, he was finding it much easier to do this job without attracting undue attention as well as maintain a lack of enemies. While he'd been a goon for Junior, those he had to work with swiftly grew disdain for him when he was the first to avoid getting nailed by the authorities even at their expense, more so when he made blunders that directly led to such situations and was still the one to make it out first –foresight came with being the cause, and warning the others at his own risk was never the decision he made. Here, all that was expected of him was to keep a watchful eye out for a highly unlikely intruder, and after that came sports opinions, smalltalk, grabbing drinks from the break room and the occasional card game when there for an actual break. It was a better way to spend his nights than he'd had up until now, and he was getting paid to do it, on top of the fact that the nature of all this would let him do what Khiver may want with relative ease. He was usually in a good mood any time he haunted the company grounds, needless to say, but there had only been one thing that would dampen his shifts of late laps around the branch; when Lt. Wyser found the time to check up on them after working overtime...

As he set his hand down in front of two coworkers –a three-of-a-kind beaten out by a straight flush –the woman in mention stepped off the elevator and through the hall, peering inside to see who was present. His attempts at staying anonymous gave him away, and she walked in to visit with them. "Hello, boys. Poker again?"

"Yes, ma'am." They unanimously mumbled, trying to act natural. She smugly drew up a chair from another table and sat in it, legs crossed.

"Not strip poker, I assume? That would be highly indecent."

"We're all fully clothed, Ma'am." Doug said, earning a look from the Lieutenant.

"Well, that just means you haven't really gotten started yet, have you?" she said, shifting her glasses. "Don't mind me; carry on."

As the game went on, the loser of each hand froze as Wyser reached out and took something off of them; vest, jacket, gloves, even Doug's boots were cast off. He knew his pants would be next, and she developed a devilish smirk when he began to sweat. It was strange for sexual harassment to be done by a woman like this, let alone frequently, but no one fought her on it due to the legends of those that had. Apparently, some of the night watch were no longer here because they had been mangled to the point of permanent injury after having stood up for themselves. Not by Lt. Wyser, but it had to be someone under her thumb, and the wildest rumors claimed it was done by some pair of illegal experiments kept on a leash somewhere in the building. Somehow, having Wyser a lecher for all men and not gunning for his drawers specifically was a relief.

She frowned as miraculously, there was no final winner but the deck ran out; it seemed the deck wasn't complete, missing quite a few cards up Doug's remaining sleeves. Wyser stood and kicked over her chair with all of her confiscated items scattering. Even still, she gave them a forced smile and continued the act. "My, My, if that wasn't fun. Enjoy the rest of the night, you three."

The collective sigh waited until she was gone a minute more, and the three gathered their garments in shame. Doug was last, as he had been on a losing streak of course –who else had that kind of luck? The uniform was heavy, primarily because he was fully equipped like a soldier rather than the type of blue-suited guard one would see keeping the paintings in a museum safe at this time. He felt it was to add to the intimidation factor they had to begin with, but it was also reassuring that the gear wasn't a legitimate bluff, the _C-920 _assault rifle that would occupy his hands carrying a fully loaded weight of a twenty-four round magazine. It had been harder to maintain at first than the types of arms he'd had before now, but routine would remedy that in time.

"Pulled yourself together yet, Brightsnap?"

Doug sighed again upon hearing the voice of Joseph Zari, Someone he'd been expecting to participate in the game well before it was ruined. He was slightly taller than Doug, built more athletically, his face wearing features that seemed to reflect his easygoing nature in how relaxed and upturned they were. He had a boney nose, rimmed eyes and sunken cheeks that came with mornings of hitting diners after the late hours of work; he shared the same set of weekly shifts as Doug himself, so it was likely these details would imprint themselves on him next.

Doug nodded, slinging the shoulder strap of his weapon. "Just about. Bitch ran off with my shirt again."

"You ought to pump up those arms, seeing as you're sleeveless more often than not." As Doug walked past, Joe fell in step beside him, frizzy black hair making an airy mop atop his head that liked to bounce with his stride. "Actually, forget bodybuilding, you ought to just get boinkin' Wyser already."

Doug shot him an annoyed glance that triggered a beaming smile in the man. "Are you ever gonna have any shame? Come on, you know I can't do that."

"You come on. Haven't you ever heard of 'taking one for the team'? I'd've taken one through fifty by now if she gave half a damn about me." Joe paused. "Then again, maybe that's why she doesn't in the first place."

Doug chuckled, pressing the call button for the elevator. They would take it down to ground floor from the fifth. "Look, it's not like giving in and doing what she wants would drive the crazy out. It'd probably even raise her appetite. Besides, I make it a point not to throw myself under the bus for other people –that just makes them expect you to do it again when something else goes wrong."

"Wyser's about a buck ten soaking wet, Brightsnap –a bus that size ain't gonna kill you." Joe paused again. "Although there's no telling how long she's been outta practice. Might be sandpapery or some'm."

"Dude!"

Doug perished the thought and punched Joe, both having a laugh about it as they returned to their post. Joe reviving the horrid idea among the others and making it even worse as they all spun absurd hypotheticals, and this was eventually interrupted by their chest-clipped radios squawking to life;

"_West-Five, this is East-Four. You seen Dotlan? He should be back by now._"

Joe glanced between the other four members of his night guards covering the west half of the building tonight, each without a clue. He thumbed the speaker; "Nothin', East-Four. He was playing Poker with Brightsnap a few minutes ago, one of Wyser's specials. Brightsnap was last to leave, though."

"_Shit. He might've ditched work after that, guy was kind of new... _"

Joe frowned. "You're already short a hand, aren't you?"

"_Yeah. Corice's wedding was last night, he's still on his honeymoon. Think you could cut off a finger, have 'em do Dotlan's rounds? He was supposed to give Med-Res a walkthrough._"

At this, Joe looked up at Doug. "Have you been to the Medical Research wing before?"

"No, not really. It's on the twenty-first floor, right?"

Joe nodded, pointing him back toward the side entrance they'd used. "Time to get acquainted then. Professor A'Reyons should still be there, so you can have him give you a tour if you need it." Joe reported this to East-Four with the radio, and Doug marched back to the building, hopping back inside the elevator and taking it up further than he normally had to.

The Medical Research wing, or Med-Res, was a spacious-looking ward but those looks were deceiving; all of the compartments to this floor had glass walls. The number of light fixtures actually needed to be fewer than other floors or it would be blinding here, the tiles tightly knit in a diagonal color pattern of blue and black. He could clearly see who was occupying what stretcher in the rooms without having to turn and pass through the doorless openings, and the machines hooked up to them. Besides sleeping patrons and less than a handful of personnel, the floor was mostly deserted.

As it turned out, mostly deserted wasn't quite deserted enough, as one of the first people Doug actually ran into in the halls of glass was a stocky researcher with a flat moustache. pressed so hard to the glass that he looked like he was trying to become one with it. Once close enough, he could see that the individual was staring through at two young girls –teenagers at least –changing into hospital gowns. The brunette of the two had gotten her shirt up, pushing out her chest as she raised the cloth, and the researcher had literally begun to drool... at least Lt. Wyser's was a more distinguished depravity –this guy was just plain gross.

The peep show was cut short once Doug struck the creep up the side of the head with the butt of his rifle. "If I need to tell you why you just got a stock to the head, the next'll be lower." The voyeur let out a yowl of pain that came from anyone who made a bigger deal out of something than it actually was, but he didn't have long enough to start complaining as Doug grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet, 'escorting' him to his proper station. He sat the man down and spun him towards his desk to eye the work splayed out on it. Doug stood by with oone of his classic expressions; the look maintained by movie henchmen that stand by at the button or crank that drops the hero or hostage into a murder device. It got the job done, as the man forgot trying to argue or stand off against him, instead returning to what he was doing.

With that done and over with, now was time to get back to his own work, though it seemed that wasn't destined to happen quite yet. A tap on his shoulder got his attention not a few steps from the pervert's office, and another researcher stood near at hand. Professor A'Reyons, as his coat had stitched in the breast pocket, was the one Joe had mentioned, smiling with oh-so-slightly crooked teeth. "I appreciate what you just did there. I... hate to ask, but would you mind doing me a favor?"

Doug merely nodded as he was meant to do in his position, following the Professor back to the same medical bay from which he had just pulled the other, less respectful and less respected, researcher. The girls were wearing their gowns now, but Doug still refrained from focusing on any but the Professor. Alastor turned to look at him with very light coral-colored eyes; "As you just saw, the girls get rather untoward attention during these procedures. Would you mind being a lookout for now?"

"Dirty birds are a pretty big problem around here, huh?" Doug spoke sarcastically, but with prior knowledge rather than disbelief.

"I'm afraid so." Alastor scratched at the dark and light brown patchy hair atop his head with embarrassment, thanking Doug and going back into the bay. He stood with his rifle in hand, feeling that guarding things was surprisingly gratifying despite how boring it could be. It was about twenty minutes before anything took place, and it wasn't what he expected.

"_Brightsnap, do you read? It's West-Five. Have you wrapped things up in there?"_

After having walked most of the place over before now, and scanning it peripherally through the glass, he had a pretty good idea of the layout and how few people were in here. All of them were supposed to be here, so Doug's job should have been done. Still, he felt the need to do as he'd been requested; "_Yeah, I gotcha. Found this oompa-loompa lookin' square checking out some nudes, just gotta put him where he belongs and I'll come right back._"

There was laughter over the other end. _"Copy that."_

Doug looked over his shoulder upon hearing A'Reyons join in, and though he caught himself before seeing the other tenants of the room they were already back in their normal clothes; the brunette with double braids was giving him an appraising look, while the yellow-eyed girl to the side of her was stoic. Oddly, it was the second that was making him feel self-conscious and uneasy.

"Thanks. Thanks for watching out for us like that..." She trailed off, not finding anything else to say as Doug accepted her words. A'Reyons introduced Xi, the brunette, as well as Rita; high-ranking soldiers that were extremely talented to the point that they needed to be monitored. Doug made a face saying that he'd been fed more filling lies than that before, but waved anyways.

The Professor sent the two on their way, holding a series of recorded test results. They both carried the stiff demeanor of a soldier, at least. "I can't express enough gratitude, really. It's rare that the guards enforce their privacy like that."

Doug shrugged. "I know how it feels, having people stare when you're vulnerable." They had a long-shared silence.

"Wyser?"

"I've gone through three uniforms, piece by piece." Doug sighed at the confession, Alastor patting his shoulder. The conversation might have continued had the radio not expressed a great deal of impatience on the west side, so Doug parted ways hastily and made for the elevator at a jog.

The Professor's request to have a slight edit done to the night shift's schedule was small enough to be accepted, as a solitary member of West-Five would merely have to spare a half-hour or so for the Medical research wing each week.


	10. Chapter 10

**Lousy Scumbags**

"No, I'm not overworked... I'm at just the right level, I'd say." Doug sat in front of Ms. Goodwitch's desk like a student seeking counsel, though he was the one who'd been asked here. Glynda looked like the response to her question was a bald-faced lie.

The woman set her hands folded on her desk after pushing up her glasses, something common of her. "Four days of fifteen-hour split shifts, with two days of eight hour shifts? That's quite a load to handle, but not unreasonable... Tell me, Mr. Brightsnap, how long has it been since you last ate?"

He took a moment to think. "Yesterday." She gave him a pressuring glare, and he divulged further. "Yesterday morning..." Another few seconds of Glynda's unrelenting eyes, and he lowered his head. "... It was a pack of noodles..."

Glynda let up on her gaze but didn't slow on the lecture. "As much as I commend your commitment, Your purpose at this job is more of an image to uphold than tasks to fulfill. We've been over that... so while I would let you go on with your diet of coffee and cigarettes, I can't turn a blind eye. Not to mention the nature of your second job..." She sighed, and crossed her legs under the desk. "I can't stop you from digging your own hole, Mr. Brightsnap, but I can at least warn you that it's getting too deep. Beacon doesn't need a hollow husk of a man cleaning the halls. If I catch you slouching," She drew her crop from her waist lightning fast, whacking the table at the edge closest to him. He jolted back in fright at the gesture, while she finished. "- don't expect a light punishment."

Standing from the seat, he gave her a nod and a quick; "Understood," before turning tail and skimpering out like she were chasing him with a broom. The door felt like it couldn't shut fast enough for Doug. Here he'd thought she'd already caught on to his charade, but it was his declining cheer factor that she'd zeroed in on? What weird twilight zone was he in, where Glynda Goodwitch could tell he was dragging his feet?

As much as the teacher had a point, Doug had never felt so accomplished before. The days when he thought his options were limited, his image would do nothing but diminish, his social life would be full of naught but crooks and degenerates –these all seemed like worries of the past. The thought that had been nagging at him since his pride in recent diligence was simple; Dirk was on the rise. Doug, on the other hand, was not. He was growing attached to a temporary identity that could do anything, be anything, like he could make it last. When his looney employer pulled the plug, it would be over and done with faster than he could blink, and there was no way of really knowing when his services were no longer required.

Despite this, it was easy to direct his full attention to acting the part of 'Dirk' when Dirk had so much to do. Doug would keep a clear mind through this, waiting for the next secret directive, whistling away as the fragile walls of his new life stood waiting for the fastball that would shatter them. And since this beat going back to the way things were immediately, he'd do it with a smile.

"Mr. Brightsnap, wait just a moment." He'd been about to leave her office's doorway behind him, but Ms. Goodwitch had other plans. Popping out of the room, she had her scroll in hand, and her brow furrowed. "One of the students' lockers was sent off, but it looks to have gotten stuck... and appears to have been an accidental launch to begin with." She looked up from her device only when the one in Doug's pocket chimed a notification. "Can you go to that location and retrieve it?"

"Consider it done, ma'am." Glynda didn't much care for the word ma'am, something he easily forgot about when Lt. Wyser wanted to hear nothing but. "Er, Ms. Goodwitch. I'll be back as soon as possible." The teacher retreated to her space. Doug dropped another sigh of relief before heading off.

Down the stairs, out the landing, and nearly a healthy jog's distance out of that god forsaken courtyard. He made his way down, out, and down again to get to his car, hopping into the driver's seat and only having to try at starting the engine twice this time around before getting acknowledgement. The drive out into Vale took him about twenty minutes, with fifteen more getting to the heart of the city and off the risen highway. Once at the coordinates specified in the message from Ms. Goodwitch, Doug didn't see any lockers lying around the nearby blocks of apartment buildings, corner stores and the casino –but there was a crowd outside the casino itself, which wouldn't be an oddity, if not for the fact that none were actually going in. He hopped out to have a look himself –at which point, he looked _up_ with the rest of them, and saw the problem.

The locker itself had gotten caught in the 'O' of Casino Traviata's neon sign on the roof, and sparks were raining down from the damages. None of these reached the ground before fizzling out, but it must have been quite a crash by the look of it. Doug stepped through the doors of the casino to hunt down a floor manager and get access to the roof, as well as someone to shut off the power for the sign while he would get the thing dislodged. He'd been here before; thugs and casinos went well together, as hired muscle were often set like dogs on the trail of any gambling addict who'd struck out one too many times. The plush green carpeting, wheels spinning, haunting jingles of try again's and clatter of coins falling for a lucky player almost distracted Doug from finding the right people to talk to.

Five minutes and one breaker flipped later, Doug rode the elevator up and passed a few more stairs to get out onto the roof and spot the object of interest. On approach, he had to climb the base of the sign as well as half the letter in order to get a good grip on the locker, which fortunately came free with only a few strenuous tugs. It dropped on its head, fell on its back, and popped open to release one blonde kid gasping for breath.

Doug was taken aback, of course. "What the FU-"

"Ooooh dear god am I glad THAT'S over! Those aren't made for people, it's too small in there! Too cramped! Too possibly airtight!" The kid got past his little episode of claustrophobia in order to nearly throw up for what he claimed was his stomach's third attempt –maybe due to vertigo, orairsickness –but finally pulled himself together. This was at around the same time Doug finished the smoke he'd decided was necessary at that moment.

They stood in silence for a minute or two while staring down at the now-empty locker.

"... Dirk. Beacon Janitor. You?"

"Jaune. First year. Nice to meet you." The silence returned in full force. Doug grabbed the object at one end, prompting Jaune to take the other. Surprisingly, it wasn't all that heavy, but the length of it made it simpler to take with two people.

Doug propped his end on one knee to press the elevator call button, and looked to the student while he waited on it to arrive. "How'd you end up in this stupid thing?"

"Not by choice..." Jaune mumbled. Doug saw what he meant quickly.

"Was it the burly kid with the crew cut? CRDL's head honcho?"

Jaune looked surprised. "Nice guess." They both clambered into the elevator as it opened up, and Doug got Jaune to stand the locker up partially so it would fit. He couldn't reach the pad, so Jaune had to stretch over and push the ground floor icon.

Doug continued; "So, do you get jammed into lockers a lot?"

"I haven't had long enough for it to become a habit." Jaune muttered, likely expecting this to happen again based on those words. Doug chuckled at the blonde's expense, which earned him a dirty look. The two carried the locker out of the Casino's ground floor, the spectacle gaining some attention from the guests here, but went mostly unnoticed –there was lien to be lost, after all.

In order to get the locker into Doug's car, they had to take the back cushions of the back seats and fold them down, so as to extend the trunk space to include this area. Even then, it stuck out, and they tried lifting it enough to stand the end slantways between the front seats. This struggle ended up futile, but eventually the two managed barely enough space to get the boot closed after turning the object diagonally, and using their weight to forcibly shut it in. As Jaune put on his seatbelt in the shotgun position, Doug kept a sour expression, abusing his lungs by lighting another smoke. Starting the old Voxwagon took three coughs of the similarly abused engine.

"You smoke a lot." Jaune said. Doug rolled down the window a crack so he could hold the cig toward it, let the castoff escape.

"Yup. And wolves hunt in packs. Shoes, they're made for feet. Fire trucks are red, too, Captain Obvious." Doug grumbled, turning onto the road. Jaune gave him a look, and he squinted while trying to ignore the kid. Communications were cut, only the sound of bustling city commerce filtering through the space between them until the highway approach.

As the two joined with a variable sea of other vehicles, Doug began to relax a little more. They'd gotten the locker into the car without leaving anything sticking out, and having some teenager in the front seat wasn't so bad when he knew how to shut his yap. Normally he wasn't altogether too fond of having passengers, but since this one was exercising quiet time, the buildup of irritation could lessen. Jaune must have been shut down by the bothered nature of Doug this present time, even after a little friendliness before now.

The armored truck ahead of them on the highway was flanked by black cars.

A Bullhead matched speed and flew above the vehicle, dropping people onto it.

"... what is my life? Jaune, what holy ground did I piss on to deserve this kind of wrath?" Doug flicked his cigarette out the window, expression still blank. "We're getting off at the next exit."

As no ramp veering off from the highway came into sight, they both watched as the truck was ransacked. Doug's grip tightened on the wheel when it became apparent that the men on the truck were White Fang members. Well, wasn't this bold of them for a change. Jaune had his arms crossed, staring ahead. "Shouldn't we do something? Anything?"

"I'm driving. That's all I'm gonna do." Doug replied. "You could always dial up the police?"

"Oh, right." Jaune took out his scroll, intending to make the call, as Doug spotted the off ramp. He went to turn into it, but more cars backing the robbers came up and prevented his chance. Doug punched the dashboard, and through the windows of these vehicles he could see more White Fangs. Apparently, they could also see his passenger calling for help, too, because they aimed their guns out the windows at his poor Voxwagon.

"No no no please goddammit I'm not insured for that-" Doug slammed the brakes as shots were fired, avoiding bullet holes but getting rear-ended by the hood of the vehicle behind him, which turned out to be another one of theirs. Doug grit his teeth and looked ahead. Jaune had dropped his scroll during the minor shake and now felt around the floor for it. "Okay, _now's_ the time to do something!"

"What should we do?" Jaune asked. Doug took his eyes off the road to give the kid a dumbfounded look.

"What do you mean?! You brought it up! You're the Huntsman here, get out your semblance-thingy! What do you got? Eye lasers? Breathing fire?" He manoeuvred what little he could to avoid getting shot again, ducking into his chest on instinct despite that doing nothing to protect him.

"I don't know what my semblance is yet!" Jaune shouted. "I only had my aura unlocked when this year started!"

Doug rammed another car for the sake of trying to make an opening for the next exit, but his crumby little rust bucket didn't have enough weight behind it. He was on the verge of tears for his old hunk of scrap. "Okay, fine, what overpowered weapon do you have? Does your chestplate shoot rockets, what?"

Jaune froze for a second, and then his expression sank to mock joy in the sheer ridiculousness of the situation while showing off his ranged-combat-inept sword and shield. The shield sprung open to get caught between the dashboard and his chest. Doug headbutted the steering wheel.

They were surrounded on all sides, and the Bullhead maintained course with the armored truck. The White Fangs on board were hefting crates out to waiting winch hooks from the aircraft that then reeled them up inside, and a redheaded man in a white coat was directing them all in doing so with a sweep of his cane. Wait... Doug recognized him. And he wished he didn't.

"Torchwick! Of all the lousy scumbags, this guy just had to turn up in front of me!" He tried strongarming his way out of the encroaching circle of vehicles again, to no avail. Rust and paint flew off his own, and he clenched his jaw at the frustration. More bullets sprayed at them from the left, two of which struck his leg and bruised through his aura. He considered thanking Ms. Goodwitch soon...

Jaune came back up from under the dashboard with scroll in hand, but didn't bother with it now as he pointed ahead. "Do you think we can shove the truck enough to get out? They're already moving forward, maybe we can bump them up!"

Doug shook his head. "Too heavy, even if they're lightening the load. Hang on, kid, I need you to switch spots with me."

"W-What?!" Jaune exclaimed. He looked as if Doug asked him to defuse a bomb. "I can't drive! I've never even been in the driver's seat before!"

Doug turned to him, grabbed the back of his head with one hand, and aimed his face at the driver's area. "_This_ circle turns us left and right! _That_ pedal is _go_! _That _pedal is _stop!_" Doug released him, and then climbed out of his seat to crawl into the back. The sudden release of the gas dropped their speed, and they were rear-ended by the backmost car again. Fortunately, those directly behind them weren't going to fire as stray shots could hit those robbing the truck. Jaune smacked his head into the driver's side door as he tripped over himself getting into the driver's seat, then untangled himself to get his feet situated and hands on the wheel. The poor boy's eyes were wide and knuckles white as he hung on for dear life.

Doug's car was punctured by another burst of fire, and Jaune flinched as his aura deflected several from hitting his torso. The backseat windows both shattered, and Doug sat hunched in the back. "Jaune, how do you make these lockers launch off?!"

Jaune jolted forward as they were rear-ended again, seatbelt pinning him in place. "Uh... I, uh... You punch in coordinates on the thing with the keys on the right, and hit a button on your scroll!"

"Gimme your scroll, then!" Jaune rifled through his pockets one hand at a time, until taking it from his back pocket and reaching back over his seat. Doug grabbed it and found the app, punching in raqndom numbers and soonafter opening the backseat's left door. He fed the end of the locker through, so that he could begin to lift it, until he had it over his shoulder, and he awkwardly propped a foot in the broken window of the door while the other stayed on the floor of the vehicle. Yes, Doug had popped halfway out of the car, holding the student's locker like a bazooka- and the look on Torchwick's face was a satisfying reward as Doug braced the roof of his Voxwagon with the hand he had holding the scroll, and pressed _launch_.

The locker flew out of his hold, causing Doug to lose his balance and fall out of his car, hitting the pavement but bouncing high enough to land on the hood of the car behind them. His elbow went through their windshield, and this was all that anchored him to it as they momentarily lost control and had to straighten themselves out. Doug shook himself out of the pain-induced daze, and glanced over to see if he'd done the trick.

The locker had flown out of his grasp, and done a beautiful 180 degree turn, to leave the situation as harmlessly as it could. Roman was laughing hysterically.

"God DAMMIT!" Doug lay stranded on the front of their backmost enemy's craft, and the one driving this vehicle took the liberty of pointing a gun at him this time. No way to miss at this distance... Doug braced himself, going rigid as the entire clip was spent on him –every last missive fired pelted off in other directions as they failed to penetrate Doug's accidental defense, and the White Fang that took the shot was now blind –the windshield was damaged enough, but the cracks from the bullet holes effectively clouded the transparency of the glass. As he lifted a foot to boot the useless thing out of his way, the windshield parted with the vehicle and tore off onto the highway behind them.

Doug tumbled into the passenger seat after going limber again, ending up upside-down but grabbing at his opponent's gun for a momentary struggle. They both fought to take the weapon for themselves, but Jaune had slammed the brakes to avoid more shots from either side of him, pounding into the car they were in and lurching the two of them forward, which was startling enough for Doug to steal the gun. He pointed it at the Faunus, trying to look intimidating with his one leg out the window and head next to the gear shift. "Pull over and get out."

The box surrounding Jaune and the Voxwagon was compromised when Doug made the back of it stop moving, and now Jaune took the chance to pull out and let the robbers all move on without them. The armored truck continued to get assailed in the distance, short one car and Faunus.

Doug kept the White Fang member under gunpoint while handing Jaune his scroll back. They stood in silence again, almost as if the whole crazy debacle never happened. Jaune hadn't put the Voxwagon in park, and it ended up rolling down the slope they were on in the highway until it hit a divider and went halfway over it. Doug appeared to be dead inside.

"Well?" Doug said.

Jaune glanced at him apologetically once again. "Er... sorry about your car."

"No, no." Doug muttered. "Call the police already. We need a ride back to the school. And a tow..." Jaune jumped and remembered why he had been trying to get a hold of his scroll to begin with.

As they waited for the authorities to arrive, Doug opened his pack of cigarettes to find it completely bare. Maybe this _was_ an unhealthy habit...


End file.
